I can almost feel the diploma in my hands, see the stage of the U.S. Cellular Center, hear parents clapping for kids that aren’t theirs. It feels like high school never ends when you first begin. I’m quickly realizing that the real world is coming at me far faster than anything else I’ve experienced. It’s daunting, yet exciting too.
I know I’m going to miss the feeling of ending a show in the Kennedy drama program, the red velvet curtains swooshing closed in front of me. I’ll miss the breathless feeling as I dance in show choir, my face smiling so much that it hurts. I’ll miss the tears I conjured for emotional Reader’s Theater pieces in speech, or the laughs I drew out of the audience in Improv. I’ll even, perhaps unexpectedly, miss Torch, something I’ve only done for a year, yet found a passion for insanely quickly.
My time at Kennedy taught me so much. I’ve learned how to write a research paper properly (thanks AP Lit) and I know the principles of physics. I can graph a polynomial function and I can tell you all about the American Revolution. But these things don’t matter in the end. When I graduate I won’t remember much about Pavlov’s dogs or about how to say “store” in French. What I will remember is the people I’ve met and the invaluable lessons they’ve taught me.
I’ve learned how to start conversations, all because I really wanted to befriend that kid in my math class who sat two rows away. I’ve learned how to express my opinions politely and effectively, all thanks to being surrounded by other intellectuals with differing views. I’ve learned how to comfort others, a skill I’ve had to use to help friends through tough times. High school didn’t teach me to be a student, it taught me to be human.